


From Dawn to Dusk

by sterekvibes



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekvibes/pseuds/sterekvibes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Elliots so sore, his hole empty and gaping every time Tyrell pulls out that he just wants to say it, wants to scream it, but they've been playing this game for too long and Elliot can't lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Dawn to Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> Yo first time writing smut also I wrote this at 4 am on Christmas night what is my life.[My tumblr](http://etherealfairy.tumblr.com)

It’s a thing they’ve been doing; fucking. Tyrell will take Elliot from behind, snapping his hips until Elliot pleads for mercy. Elliot will get on his knees and take Tyrell into his mouth, almost choking on the heavy weight of Tyrell’s cock.  Elliot’s favorite is when Tyrell ties him up and has his way with him. The sex is great, Elliot’s assuming since he has nothing to compare to. He’s never been with a guy before. 

“Elliot.”

Elliot whines.

“Just a little longer,” Tyrell whispers. His fingers hitting the spot that makes Elliot see stars. “That's it, good boy.”

Elliot’s the prettiest when he's laid out on Tyrell’s bed, tied and bound, at his mercy. His pliant body stretched across the mattress, legs over Tyrell’s shoulders.

He's been finger-fucking Elliot for hours now. Long enough for dawn to turn into dusk. His fingers glide in and out, stroking and teasing over Elliot’s prostate. Each time Elliot’s close to cumming, Tyrell grips the base of his cock like a vice, ignoring Elliot’s pleas to  _ just fuck me already. _

_ "Tyrell _ ,” Elliot cries. Tyrell just hums in response, his fingers slowing their pace, stretching and curling in the places that make Elliot strain against the bonds on his wrists.

“What do we say?” Tyrell asks, a grin stretching on his face. It's much like the Cheshire cat’s grin, full of hunger and mischief.

And Elliots so sore, his hole empty and  _ gaping _ every time Tyrell pulls out that he just wants to say it, wants to scream it, but they've been playing this game for too long and Elliot can't  _ lose _ .

“No,” Elliot says.

Tyrell growls, spine-chilling and intense. He’s focused on Elliot’s hole, so pink and  _ pretty _ . Just the right size for Tyrell’s  _ cock _ . But Tyrell wants to hear Elliot beg for it until the only word he can remember is  _ please _ .

“Alright.” Tyrell speeds up his movements, eliciting a keen from Elliot. He jerks against his bonds, wanting to grab Tyrell’s hair, his hand,  _ anything _ of his. Because Elliot's floating, soaring with the birds and the clouds and he needs something to ground him.

But Tyrell just takes and takes, rubbing against his walls, pressing against his prostate. Tears of overstimulation build in Elliot’s eyes and he's so so  _ close _ . Tyrell smacks Elliots pale cheek, the spot turning such an enticing red, like Elliots face.

The high Elliot gets from this is so much better than morphine. If he could, Elliot would keep himself stuffed full on Tyrell’s fingers, on his cock. He'd make sure the feeling of emptiness never reached him again.

Tyrell adds another finger, just his thumb left out of the process. And suddenly Elliot’s  _ there _ .

“No,” Tyrell pinches the base of Elliots cock, keeping his fingers right on the edge of Elliot’s fluttering hole, thumb stroking the rim gently.

Elliot chokes, body thrashing. Only when Elliot calms down does Tyrell continue his exploration of Elliot’s body, letting go of Elliot’s cock.

That hand then comes up to pinch a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until the pink bud is sore enough Elliot will feel it tomorrow, scratching against his shirt. Tyrell’s eyes will watch every movement Elliot makes, sinister eyes tracing the outline of Elliot’s nipples.

Elliot will feel a lot of things tomorrow. There'll be a hitch in his step and a grimace on his face as he works at his desk, but it'll be a nice reminder that Tyrell’s  _ claimed _ him.

“Tyrell I can't. I can't I  _ can't,”  _ Elliot mewls, he doesn't register the words falling out of his mouth

“What's the magic word?” Tyrell sing-songs, thrusting his fingers in harshly.

Elliot’s lost the game as soon as Tyrell told him to  _ spread your legs for me  _ and  _ that's a good boy _ .

“Please please  _ please _ just fuck me,” Elliot sobs. He turns his face into the mattress to muffle his noises.

“I don't think I will today,” Tyrell grins again, menacing. “But since you begged so sweetly I'll let you come.”

And he crooks his finger over Elliot’s prostate, holding and rubbing relentlessly. The squelching sounds making Elliot feel so dirty. Tears drip down Elliots face and he's so ready and so  _ raw _ .

“Come for me, darling.”

Elliot obeys.

He moans when he comes, arching his back as his  release rushes over him, his hole clenching uncontrollably around Tyrell’s fingers.  His body falls back down to the mattress, twitching with aftershocks.

Tyrell unzips his pants, himself in hand. He pumps and strokes his dick firmly, thumb swiping over the head.  All he has to do is look at Elliot’s abused hole, still open and  _ ready _ for him, and he's cumming, painting Elliots face and chest with white stripes.

Elliot licks some off his lips and smears some into his skin, knowing Tyrell likes when Elliot smells like him. Tyrell looks at Elliot like he's the biggest  gift under the Christmas tree, all for Tyrell. He unties Elliots hands, smoothing over the tender skin with his lips.

“You were so good for me.”

Elliot lets out a sigh of contentment.

 


End file.
